


We Were the Kids Who Screamed (We Weren't the Same)

by silverscreens



Series: And they can speak our names in a dead language (‘Cause you and I, we’re alive) [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Kakashi-centric, M/M, Not Underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverscreens/pseuds/silverscreens
Summary: You spent your whole life avoiding mirrors so nobody’s really surprised you don’t have the heart to meet his eyes and tell him everything will all be alright.





	We Were the Kids Who Screamed (We Weren't the Same)

You say “I see” when you’re pulled out of ANBU after sixteen years of loyal service, you don’t put up a fight when you’re forced to become a teacher to _genin_.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you’re assigned a student you will never be able to look in the eye.

 

* * *

 

If the Third has a problem with the way you treat him, he doesn’t show it.

(You spent your whole life avoiding mirrors so nobody’s really surprised you don’t have the heart to meet his eyes and tell him everything will be alright.)

You treat him the same as his teammates and force him to slow his pace and _wait_ and he _seethes_ because you both know he could be the kind of prodigy people publicly praise and privately curse if you gave him the chance.

(He wants to be like Itachi, he wants to be like you. He wants to be six feet under the ground before he’s thirty.)

“This isn’t what your father would have wanted. He wouldn’t want you to throw your future away for his past.” You tell him one day, with a raw, unpracticed sincerity that you didn’t know you still possessed.

“Hn,” he responds, red eyes flickering in a way that reminds you so much of Itachi your heart aches.

(Itachi, tiny and thirteen and lethal on the battlefield, so selfless and responsible and always throwing himself in the midst of danger so everyone else will be safe.)

As he turns to leave, Sasuke offers you a curt nod with a newfound stiffness that you remember developing at around his age when formal visits from higher-ups became all too frequent and you felt like you could live off of the approval in their eyes.

When you meet your students next morning, you’re all insincere smiles and glib words and he _seethes_.

 

* * *

 

Years later, he aims for your heart and misses and you knock him down with more force than necessary to remind yourself that this is a S-rank criminal and not the tiny, jagged boy you prayed to gods you didn’t believe in wouldn’t turn out like this.

(Later that night, you see his blood on your hands and water doesn’t do the job this time so you turn to fire.)

When you revisit that day in your mind you see that your wayward student aimed for your heart with your chidori and it’s so poetic you could cry.

(So you do.)

 

* * *

 

You learn the truth of the massacre from a monster masquerading as a dead man and you’re a bit disappointed at how surprised Naruto and Yamato are by it. After the masked man leaves you can barely hold in your laughter as they look at you with worried eyes like they expect you to grieve for your fallen teammate.

(Itachi had always been too good for this world, and in the most twisted sense you think it’s for the best that he died young and beautiful and blasphemous — he’s always been more legend than man.)

 

* * *

 

You run into him once more and this time he’s dressed in an all too familiar cloak of black and red and he’s bloodied and battered and the shadows under his eyes make him look just like Itachi during his ANBU days. He sees you and striking features twist into an ugly snarl.

Two of the three chunnin assisting you with the B-rank recognize him immediately and charge at him like they stand a chance. Sasuke kills the girl with a flick of his katana and hurls the medic at a tree and the bloodied blade is at your neck before you have chance to open your mouth.

“This is exactly what my father would’ve wanted,” He hisses, voice trembling and clutching his bleeding eye and not for the first time you want to hold him in your arms and take on all of his pain because _god_ he’s still so young.

But you hear an all-too-familiar crack and when you turn around the last chunnin is dead and a tall boy with orange hair who you vaguely remember as a member of Sasuke’s team whispers something in his ear and your wayward student disappears into the night.

You burn their corpses even if it means their mothers will never know peace again. You lie on your mission report for the first time in two decades.

(Later that night, you turn to the picture of Team 7 on your desk and there’s Sasuke, twelve and tiny, scowling back at you. Your lips twist into something that’s almost a smile as you remember calling the Third weak for not killing Orochimaru when he had the chance.)

 

* * *

 

You realize you wouldn’t mind dying by Sasuke’s hand by his sharp blade by his borrowed eyes.

You tell yourself it’s because despite everything Sasuke is not a cruel man and would grant you a swift death.

(You've always been a good liar, until you're not.)

 

* * *

 

Then, the war starts and ends with eyes the color of blood and finally he opens his eyes and sees his clan’s legacy for what it really is and renounces his claim on his cursed birthright. When he wakes up the first thing he sees is you by his hospital bed, and he looks you in the eye for the first time in years and he smiles.

During his trial you fight the elders tooth and nail for his fate but you know that no matter what the council decides he’ll be alright.

 

* * *

 

He returns and he sees him, and your heart aches so you do what you do best and put on your mask and a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

 

* * *

 

They’re like fire and ice and they illuminate like the moon and burn bright as the sun but what waxes wanes and the moon has always shone brighter in the company of lesser stars.

He looks at you with mismatched eyes and gives you one of his tiny half-small smiles that make him look as young as he is and you feel something you haven’t felt for years.

So when long, slender fingers tug at your hair with just a hint of hesitance, you close your eyes and let the boy who defied all odds press soft lips to your cheek and weave his way back into your life.

(And this time he stays.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment!


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